


The Stray

by TheOriginalSuki



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: All The Tropes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Miscommunication, Modern Era, and Rey being a feral desert gremlin, seriously, there's hair braiding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOriginalSuki/pseuds/TheOriginalSuki
Summary: Rey moves in across the hall from Ben; a former foster kid alone in the city, aspiring to be an actress.  Ben is a ladder-climbing white collar businessman with a horrible boss and zero social life.  Which is just the way he likes it.  So why in the world has this insufferable creature made it her life's work to adopt him?  From sharing her dinner to doing his laundry, she seems determined to make a connection.  In the end, it's easier for Ben to just let her.  But opening up means letting your heart be vulnerable.For the RFFA fic exchange.  Happy Valentine's Day, Reylos!
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 37
Kudos: 206
Collections: For one is both and both are one in love: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	The Stray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itsinthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsinthestars/gifts).



She showed up on his doorstep in jean shorts, a frilly apron, and a pair of worn converses, asking to borrow sugar.

After he recovered from the shock of being approached at his place of residence, he retreated into the apartment only to find her inexplicably following him. A look of consternation must have slipped out before he could school his face because she offered him a wholesome and oblivious smile.

"I'm making a cake," she explained.

Why anyone in their right mind wanted to bake a cake at nine o'clock at night was beyond him. To his immense good fortune, he was directly supplied with an answer.

"It doesn't feel like home unless it smells like something baking." She had a soft way of talking and a distinct British accent. "I'm Rey, by the way." She held out her hand for him to shake.

"Ben." 

He rummaged through the cupboards in his pristine kitchen. Truth was, he rarely cooked for himself. A cup of black coffee was a typical breakfast; lunch was either a business meeting with clients he was required to impress at a five-star restaurant or reheated soup at his desk over a conference call. If he was feeling ravenous by dinner time, he might order Chinese delivery, or a pizza. Otherwise, a piece of fruit or a bowl of cereal would do. But he recalled having an unopened sack of sugar from the last time his mother visited. He found the sugar and handed it to her.

"Here. Just take the whole thing."

"You sure?" she smiled, a smile too bright for this time of evening. "Thanks! I'll share it with you when it's finished!"

"But -- not tonight ..."

"Oh." The corners of her mouth went down in thought. "No, I guess not. All right. I'll save some for you."

***

Ben Solo had unintentionally adopted a stray. Or maybe the stray had adopted him. 

Rey made good on her promise of cake, cornering him in the hallway the next day, insisting on watching him eat at least one slice of the Victoria sponge she brought to him on a flimsy paper plate. He didn't care for sweets, so he was grateful to not have to calculate an appropriate reaction -- Rey talked incessantly the whole time. The result was that by the time she excused herself (and she had never technically been invited, so...) Ben knew she was a former foster kid who'd come to LA to try to pursue her lifelong goal of acting, while working minimum wage shifts and taking a class or two at the community college.

There was nothing particularly interesting about her. Hers was the same as thousands of other stories being written into the city's script, day after day, broken dream after broken dream. This one was pretty, fresh-faced and innocent, and it was only a matter of time before she absorbed the contaminant of cynicism, probably through the water.

When she didn't leave -- and Ben was forced to invite her to share the curry he'd just had delivered -- it occurred to him, not for the last time, that she was lonely.

***

Rey was a mess, in more ways than one. Her one-bedroom apartment was a permanent disaster. She'd moved in six months ago and the boxes still stacked in the corners and closets. She was always cooking _something_ : a broth simmering on the stove, a half-brewed cup of tea. Her unrelenting optimism made her a particularly tempting target for scammers and con-artists. She'd once called him from a payphone downtown to pick her up after she gave away all her money to a man who claimed he was locked out of his hotel room and had no way of paying for the parking garage fee so he could leave his car. Ben offered to drive her to her job _once_ and set a precedent for her to impose on him for a lift whenever she was running late.

He considered once or twice sitting her down and telling her that she needed to -- _what_ ? Back off? Get real? Grow up? Make friends? But then she would show up from the basement with his laundry folded; greet him in the morning with a fresh cup of coffee and good wishes for his presentation (that he definitely did _not_ forget about); or look so small and defeated in the elevator after yet another rejection for a small but promising part in something local, that he set her up on his sofa with a pile of pillows and a box of tissues and told her she didn't have to leave until she was ready, while backing awkwardly away to fix her a hot beverage and let her cry in peace.

And damn if the comfort wasn't mutual. She seemed to know by instinct when he'd had a bad day at the office. He wasn't sure how, because he was certain he didn't betray his inner workings via expression the way she did; he'd developed the mask as a kind of coping mechanism for his work environment. It got him only so far. Because after a particularly taxing confrontation with his most competitive coworker, Hux, or yet another confusing and passive-aggressive beratement from his boss Snoke, Ben wanted nothing more than to sink into the safety of his well-curated solitude. He knew she knew because, miracle of miracles, she would slip a note under his door with some easy to decline invitation and stay right out of his way. But only for so long. She seemed to know exactly how much time was enough. Then she'd dive into his bubble and extract him from his own bad mood. It was impossible to wallow when Rey brought him a cherry slush and a copy of _Calligraphy as Art and Meditation_. 

And no, it didn't bother him that the cherry slush was really for her.

***

On Rey's birthday she managed to get him to tag along to the aquarium. She had a two-for-one discount but she needed someone to split the cost of the ticket with her. Of course, she didn't _say_ this but by now Ben was quite familiar with her idiosyncrasies. She was poor and proud. It was a disastrous combination, one which led to awkward situations such as hitchhiking home from the grocery store; eating boxed macaroni and cheese for a week staight; and Ben having to be _at the mother-fucking aquarium_.

There was nothing he could learn here that he couldn’t learn from a book or a marine biology lecture. And he could do it from the comfort of his own home, without having to mingle with the lesser life forms that populated LA.

"You're in a grouchy mood today," Rey said. She poked him in the arm, earning herself a glare.

To be fair, he was no different than he always was when he was forced to make an appearance outside of his domicile. Just because Rey was privy to a private, far more tolerable Ben didn't make the current Ben out of character.

"Look at this one," she said, pulling up in front of the large window into an underwater world. Otherworldly blue reflected from the rippling surface on the water, falling on reefs and fish billowing about like clouds.

She squinted at the plaque on the wall. " _Clown fish and sea anemone_. They live in a symbiotic relationship. The anemone are actually dangerous to any other fish! But because the clown fish help the anemone, by cleaning it of algae and leftover food, the anemone allow them to live in their tentacles, and protect them."

The blue glow from the tank illuminated wispy tendrils around her face. She spared him a glance to see if he was paying attention and redoubled. "What?"

"Nothing." He realised he'd been smiling at her.

***

They'd parked several blocks away so stopped off for ice cream -- his treat -- in route to the parking garage. While Ben paid, Rey stepped outside with her cone. It was ill-timed indeed. Just as Ben opened the swinging door to join her, a group of inebriated youths happened to be walking by, and one of them, checking out the cute girl in overalls, smacked his lips in parody of a kissing noise and said, "What's up, pussy-cat?"

Rey's face went sheet-white. Her body stiffened. " _Excuse_ me?"

"You heard me," the young man said, doubling down on his insult. The leer on the young man’s face made Ben angry and ill. He couldn't begin to imagine how it made Rey feel.

She stepped up to him, despite his being a head taller. Ben saw she was preparing to put a finger in his face. "You better--"

Before she could finish, Ben slid his free arm around her waist and tugged her to him. Ben held her snug against his side, speaking to her, but with his attention clearly on the group of inebriates. "Problem, sweetheart?"

She caught on, not missing a beat. "It's fine, dear. These kids were just on their way ... weren't you?"

One of them managed a slurred apology, but most of them just scattered. Ben held onto her for a half a moment until he was sure the offenders were a safe distance away. Then he dropped his arm and said, "You shouldn't have answered them, Rey. They _want_ a reaction out of you."

Rey licked at her cone with a darkening visage. "Yeah, well ... I can take care of myself."

He might have laughed, the way her nose scrunched, the full-bodied possession of her ire. But she'd been uncharacteristically silent about certain aspects of her life growing up, and Ben suspected that they she had, indeed, in some shape or other, had to take care of herself. Because who else would?

***

When his mother stopped by at his during her campaign trail, it occurred to him for the first time how odd their relationship must look from the outside.

"She's a little young, Ben, don't you think?"

He scraped the spaghetti leftovers from off her plate into the compost bin -- he hated spaghetti and only made it for the occasion of her royal visit. He set the plate down in the basin and turned on the faucet.

"What do you mean?"

Rey got herself invited to dinner (as usual) and had stepped out to retrieve a fresh-baked batch of brownies to share for dessert. That was when his mother approached him under the guise of bringing him the long-stemmed wine glasses.

"I mean," she shrugged, "she can't be more than twenty. She's a long way from home and from the looks of it very naive. Don't you worry that you might be taking advantage?"

The next plate clattered, shattering into the sink. " _What_ ? You think I'm _sleeping_ with her?" He grit his teeth, trying to swallow his temper. His mother had an unseemly talent for making him _lose_ it.

Leia ignored the broken dish and gave him an appraising look. "She knows where you keep the toilet paper, Ben. She has her own _key_. What else am I supposed to think?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said lividly. He began to collect the broken pieces of ceramic. "Maybe that your son isn't a morally bankrupt _monster_. That I'm capable of having human interactions that aren't reductive to what I can get out of them. That I'd never do something so stupid as dive into a physical relationship without considering all the angles, like you and Dad!"

He regretted that last bit -- almost. He detected a subtle tremor in the muscle of her cheek. "Son. I'd be happy if you so much as had a relationship."

He slammed the broken bits of plate back into the sink. "Don't. Don't do that."

She was about to answer but her sharp turn alerted him to the re-entrance of Rey. She hovered in the doorway with the awkward stance of someone who knows they have interrupted something, holding the pan of brownies, and Ben thought, guiltily, that he wished for once she would just go _away_.

***

"Ben, your hand is bleeding."

His mother had departed with no love lost after a stiff goodbye, and he and Rey now stood alone in his apartment. He looked down to where she gestured to crimson dripping onto the carpet. He must have cut himself on the ceramic shards during the argument.

"Damnit!" He snatched up the finger and gripped it in his hand. Crimson spots dotted the immaculate carpet.

"Here, let me see." She lifted one large hand in her two, trying to find the source of the blood; but the gore gushed too profuse and too thick. She squinted, rotating his wrist, now this way, now that. Then, without so much as a segue, she steered his finger into her mouth and slid it out again between her lips, drawing away the blood, and continued to study it.

Ben felt like the bottom of the world dropped out from under them.

Rey started to say something, eyes still scrutinising the injury, when Ben jerked his hand away, causing her to lose balance and have to step back.

"S-stop -- you can't _do_ things like that, Rey!"

She blinked widened eyes at him. "D-do what?"

" _That_." He wrapped a fist around the bleeding finger and jabbed it toward her. "I don't know ... _what_ you think this is ... _who_ you think you are to me ... but, this, this. Is _not. A_ ppropriate. You're not my caretaker. You're not my girlfriend. You're barely more than a _child_. And we're going to have to establish some solid boundaries if you want to continue to invade my life and space. Do you understand?"

Rey's head jerked in a nod. But there was no understanding in her eyes. Eyes that were fast filling with moisture, making it so very hard for him to keep focus.

His frustration bled from him in a sigh. "Make friends your own age. Get drunk. Go on dates, for God's sake. Don't buy me a pair of socks because you noticed once that my feet get cold!"

Her voice cracked. "Y-yeah," she said. "You're right. You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so ... intrusive ...." She turned swiftly and exited the flat, closing the door with a firm click behind her. 

He walked to the door, put out his hand and leaned his forehead on it. He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard, muffled from behind the second door on the other side of the hallway, the sound of sobbing.

Ben lashed out at the nearest object, which happened to be a bookshelf, shoving several volumes, a china pug, and a quartz clock from off of the shelf, sending them flying into the adjacent wall.

***

For several days he saw nothing of her. And he hadn't noticed how very much the rhythm of her filled up his everyday, until the lack of it left him cold and reeling. Had his life really been this lonely before? Or had she just pried him open, climbed inside when he wasn't looking and rearranged his organs like furniture so that he couldn't get by the way he used to? He tried to fall back on familiar coping mechanisms. He did some reading, learned something new. Went to the gym, worked on cardio.

For all of his coming and going it was highly suspect that he didn't at least run into Rey. It was bitter, like tonic water, when he realised she was actively avoiding him.

But it was better this way, wasn't it?

Still, he thought, maybe he'd been too hard. Perhaps he should backtrack a little, make a peace offering, let her know he hadn't meant to shut her down so entirely. Then he saw her in passing on the stairs and she gave him a brief, formal smile and hurried on her way.

After two weeks of catching no glimpse of her, he was genuinely worried. So he bit down on his pride, bought her a bag of In-and-Out burgers, and knocked on the door. She started when she opened her apartment door to him, clearly not expecting him.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey." It was quiet, hesitant.

He thrust the bag of fast food toward her. "I ordered too much. Can't eat it all. Want to share?"

***

She took him into her tiny apartment. Each floor of the building included a wide range of accommodation, from lush to serviceable, the latter for people who couldn't afford the high rent but wanted to be in "a nice neighborhood." Little had changed since the last time he’d been in her place. The way Rey stowed things away reminded him of a nest. The empty soda bottles lined lovingly on the window ledge filtered the sun into mosaics of light in browns and greens. A bouquet of recently acquired carnations soaked in a jug of water still in their plastic wrapping near the kitchen sink. Her books were all dog-eared and grubby from frequent handling. There were always dishes in the sink, needing to be washed. Plants needing watered. Unopened mail needing her attention.

They sat in silence on her sofa (her table was covered with ephemera) and unwrapped their burgers. She ate with her usual enthusiasm but her lack of chatter hammered in his brain louder than his chewing.

"I haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been up to?"

She reached over to the fountain drink on the coffee table, stirred the straw. "I've been, um ... I've been going on ... dates."

"Oh?" Was that a reaction or a choke?

"Yeah, like you said ..."

"Good, that's ... good." Dates, _plural_?

"I have one tonight, actually," she said, shoving the last of her hamburger into her mouth. She retroactively put her words and actions together and continued, pointing at herself and speaking with difficulty through a mouthful of food, "it's not a dinner date."

"So there's ... someone in the picture ..." he ventured.

She scrunched up her nose. "N-not really. My coworker helped me set up a dating app."

Ben worked his mouth, trying to wrangle a frown. "You're meeting men ... from off the internet?"

"In public places!" She stood, crushing the hamburger wrapping and aiming it toward the garbage bin. She threw, missed, and had to go fetch it. "I haven't gotten a lot of follow up dates, actually. One or two, but um, I wasn't really into it, so…. Anyway, tonight, this one guy wants to take me to the opera for our first time..."

That ... was a pretty sophisticated first date. He didn't know why that bothered him.

Ben shifted. Crossed his legs. "How old is he? What's he do for a living?"

Rey eyed him, her mood curling into something sharp and snipey. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"It'll help to figure out whether he's interested in you for _you_ or just looking for a hookup."

Her face darkened. "Well _I'm_ not interested in a hookup, so it's irrelevant. Besides..." she chewed over the words, before landing them, "you're not my keeper."

That was fair. Stinging, but fair. He leaned over and started to clear away the rubbish on the coffee table; they'd finished eating now. He felt like he should leave. He'd deposited the garbage in the bin and was heading for the door, when some wandering thought snagged him. He stopped, turned. "How are you wearing your hair?"

***

Rey perched cross-legged on the floor in front of the sofa, back and neck stiff. Ben sat behind her, one leg tucked up and out of the way, the other bracing her on the side to keep her aligned. His fingers worked in her roots and slid down, combing. He leaned over her head to speak closer to her ear, "If I do this for you … you're sworn to secrecy, all right?"

She rewarded him with a laugh. "I'm not sure that anyone would believe Mr. Tall-and-Dark-Across-the-Hallway knows how to braid hair. But okay."

He worked the gnarls out gently and started to separate the strands into segments. Each stroke released a burst of her discount drugstore shampoo. "It was just my mom and me a lot of time, when I was growing up. My father couldn't stay put for long periods of time. So, I kind of stepped in when he was gone. I became her partner, her spouse."

She stayed quiet, so he went on. "She needed someone to dress her, you know, zip her up and things like that. It was my favourite time of day, early in the morning, after getting ready for school. It was just her and me."

"She taught you to braid her hair." Rey's quiet voice drifted over to him.

He hummed in agreement. The braids came together in his fingers, muscle memory taking over. How long had it been since he'd done this? How long had it been since he was _physically close_ _enough_ to someone to do this? And _emotionally_...?

"There." He finished with a pin or two, tucking the braids on the top of her head to give shape and movement, while keeping it out of the way. 

Rey's fingers came around to touch her bare neck, right below her hairline. She turned a little toward him. "Does it ... does it look okay?"

It looked more than okay, he thought. But he said, instead, trying for a reassuring smile, "You look ready to go to an opera."

***

He told himself he couldn't sleep but didn't try to examine why. Instead of turning the television on or diving into a book, he sat in the low light in the quiet, listening. When he heard the familiar shuffle of feet in the outside corridor, the jangle of keys and the swing of the cross-the-hall door, shutting again, he finally picked himself up and got into bed.

***

He never learned if the date went well or not because he did not see her the next day or several days afterward.

***

Ben got a call on his mobile half after one early on a Saturday morning.

Rey's voice sounded muffled, staticky on the other end, as though she were speaking through cellophane. "Ben? It's ... it's me, Rey. I'm sorry, but ... I didn't know who else to call. I want to come home."

He shot up straight in bed. "Rey? Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

"Um. I'm outside this club on 30th. It's called Second Space."

***

He couldn't get out fast enough. His knuckles blanched on the steering wheel. His mind ran over and over the worst possible scenarios, again and again. He kept his cell phone on his lap, volume as high as it would go, so he could -- illegally -- answer it if she needed to speak to him urgently. He couldn't help but feel this was his fault. He'd pushed her away, made her feel clingy, and basically told her to get a life. And she was so, so --

Infuriating. Naive. Reckless, resilient, vital.

She was so much ... _muchness_. God, what would he do if something bad happened to her?

He pulled up dangerously near the curb in front of the club, cutting off a red Lexus which had been nudging toward the opening. Ben ignored the curses belted in his direction, unbuckled his seat belt, shifted the car into park, threw open the door, and prepared to step out -- when Rey materialised like an apparition, mascara smudged, sequined dress askew, but otherwise -- completely unharmed. She skidded by him, around the hood of his car, and clambered into the passenger's seat before he could so much as blink.

***

The silence held valiantly for two and a half minutes. Then Ben asked, putting the words together with care, "Are you all right?"

Her head jerked in a nod. Her voice sounded strange, mechanical. "I'm fine. I told you. I can take care of myself." Then she added, in softening, sinking tones, "I'm sorry. For intruding again."

That was _not_ what he wanted to hear. He swerved out of the fast lane and took a sharp exit. As soon as he could, he pulled up on a side street, parked, and threw his body entirely toward her, which was no easy thing to do with such a large body in such a confined space.

"Don't be foolish. You know you can come to me if you're ever in trouble, if you need anything."

"Can I? I thought you made it clear that I don't have any claim on you."

He sat forward and hit the steering wheel in frustration. "Damnit, Rey!"

"Please just take me home!"

"What happened?"

"My date went sour. Don't look at me like that. I kneed him between the legs and threw his car keys across the dance floor. He'll be looking for them until sunrise."

Ben wanted to ask if this monster touched her, but he decided against it. What could he do now but get angry? His anger was famously ineffective. "I'll take you home. But I want you to agree to stop meeting men from off of the internet -- _even_ ," he intuited before she could protest, "in public places."

She snapped her mouth shut on a retort. She said, lowly, "I don't have to do what you say. I don't need you."

"Well, you've got me," his voice rose, nearly shouting. "Somehow, you've got me, whether you like it or not. I don't know how or why you climbed inside my life, but you're here now and that's your own damn fault. You made me care about you, now you've got to put up with the consequences."

For once, she didn't seem to know what to say. Her lips mouthed on empty syllables. She dropped her eyes down to her feet. Rey didn't say anything else, so Ben put the car in reverse to back up and drove them home.

***

She said nothing as they climbed the stairs, paused at her door. She half turned to him, but didn't meet his eyes. "Could you -- would you -- check on me in the morning?" Her voice ended on a crack but she hid her face from him, keeping it down and away.

"Course I will. Of course I will."

She unlatched the door and turned the handle to open it; but Ben reached his hand over hers and tugged it closed again. "Why _me_ , Rey? Why did you single me out? I'm a miserable millennial with an unfulfilling, middle class job, anger issues, an anti-social streak, and a weird sense of humour."

It was very, very early. They shouldn't be speaking in the hallway, with their neighbours on either side, probably asleep. But in a literal, as much as a figurative, sense -- this was their middle ground. If not here, then where?

She trailed her eyes up to him, but they danced around his face, afraid to settle. Some sort of decision was being made, one he was not privy to. Her voice was always soft, surprising for how much she talked. But this was softer even than that. "You're the only person who's ever listened to me. _Really_ listened. I've never been ... _valued_ ... before. You make me feel safe, and, and -- _heard_."

That did something painful inside his throat. His fingers twitched. Without a conscious decision, his arm came around her and pulled her toward him. She fit her head below his chin just so. His head bent over her, so low. He spoke into her hair. "And you ... you're the only person who's ever seemed to want to be around me for _me_. I mean, the real me, not what I could do for them, or the me that I could be, all the potential I have. Not for my family name, or my mother's connections, or the expectations they have of me. Just the emotionally stunted man-child who can't let anyone behind the mask of control. Except for incorrigible little orphans who don’t know how to take no for an answer. You just see me and accept me, Rey, and that -- that's _so_ hard."

She pulled away a bit to look up at him at last; hurt, concerned. "Why?"

He pushed the back of her head, burying her face into the hollow of his collarbone again. He had to say what he was going to say or else never speak it, not even to himself. "Because it was never my intention to fall in love with you. But you're kind of a maverick at it, you know that?"

Her body jerked and for one excruciating moment he thought she was going to pull away. But she flung her arms around him, hugging him back, reciprocating his embrace, pressing her face into him as though he were a bouquet of fragrant roses or a freshly laundered blanket. Her voice vibrated through his chest, and he felt as much as heard her say, "You're so stupid. I love you, too."

***

He did check on her the next morning. And the one after that. And the next; and the next. And then one morning he didn't have to check because he woke up with her curled behind him in the black silk sheets she so despised ("black isn't even a colour!"), her arm hooked around his middle and her leg thrown over his hip. Such a fussy sleeper! She’d managed to corner him on the near-edge of the bed during the night, taking up the whole space. He smiled, drowsy from sleep, and tangled his fingers into the hand she had draped over him. And as he played his fingers with hers, the morning sun trickled in through a crack in the blinds, catching yellow and gold off of a pair of matching rings.

He wasn’t sure anymore which one of them was the stray; whomever it was, they had undoubtedly, irrevocably found a home.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't generally write AU, as I feel like the characters' history goes a long way to making them who they are. So it's a challenge to try to write for them without that history, but to keep as much of it as possible and translate it to a different timeline and era. I imagine Rey without the Force is pretty ordinary. She has such a girl-next-door vibe, while being entirely wholesome and optimistic. I know this is kind of controversial, but I wish the writers had given her more to struggle with in the films. I think they were trying to make up for years of inappropriate depiction of women and overshot the mark. Still, she has the most amazing ability to be both vulnerable and strong and I am here for it. Ben, meanwhile, is your common misanthrope.
> 
> I might come back and elaborate on this universe, as I feel there's probably a lot more to it that would enrich the narrative. But it's due at midnight, so I slam the publish button.
> 
> Thank you to @suchlostcreatures aka @aCowlorSomething for giving me feedback when I was struggling to finish! Her Reylo fic is pure and just, so go and read it, you won't regret it!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @theOriginalSuki


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